The final goodbye creeps sneakily sly
like a snake in the wilderness does
and stalks the edges of innocence
until it is time to strike.
Patient are snakes and final goodbyes
because the strike must be deadly true
to reach the unprotected core
when it is least expected.
Strike and I'm dead; I don’t exist
like an extraordinary mystical vision
seen and then lost in preposterous life
always present like traffic lights.
Now traffic lights can’t assimilate loss
or empathize with the deprived
so those who should proceed onward
stand immobilized on the line.
They don’t hold up traffic, oh, no. no. no,
because people like me and you and them
are plain and simply mystical visions
seen and then, of course, lost!
seen and then, of course, lost!
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